The Fear Factor
by SassySunshine
Summary: Written for the All Hallow's Eve contest by Lavender Flame on Starvation. My character was Maysilee Donner. Maysilee never knew the horrors of the Hunger Games, really, until she realized that she could be the tribute going down by mutts, or an arrow to the head, or a knife to the heart...


**This is for Lavender Flame's All Hallow's Eve horror challenge on Starvation forums. My character was Maysilee Donner.**

* * *

The Fear Factor  
by SassySunshine

_Age 12_

"Maysilee, let me tell you. Some of the most horrific things I've ever seen had zero blood or gore or violence. They were mind tricks, Mays, and let me tell you, they were bad mind tricks," Mother tells me the first time I'm eligible for the Reaping. I nod absently, much more focused on the other people I may be potentially Reaped with. A lot more of them are coal miners from the Seam, dressed in dingy, worn clothes covered in coal dust, as opposed to the lesser number of us from the merchant class, with our much neater, cleaner clothes.

"Maysilee, are you listening?"

I don't reply. Instead, I head off to the check-in desk where all of the potential tributes are lined up. At the head of the line is a table with a bored-looking Capitol lady seated there to take our blood samples so we can enter the Reaping area. I see my best friend, Iris Saller, standing in line up ahead. My twin sister Anika is now talking to Mother, probably being told the same fact that Mother told me. To me, right now, it's a pointless fact. Maybe in a few years, I'll listen to it again, because then I'll have a higher chance of being reaped into the Hunger Games.

"Name please," the lady at the desk says when I reach the front of the line.

"Maysilee Donner," I reply briskly. The lady flips a few pages in a book and finds the part of it that reads _Donner, Maysilee_ on it, with a big box underneath for the fingerprint. She sticks a needle into my pointer finger, in the top of it, and quickly presses the blood down on the page. My finger is then wiped, and a scanner goes over the blood.

_"Maysilee Donner. Age Twelve. District 12," _the scanner says when it's done scanning. The lady motions me into the Reaping area. I do so promptly, without hesitation. I make my way over to where all of the twelve-year-olds are located, and I quickly find Iris.

"Maysilee!" Iris says in excitement as she embraces me.

"Hey Iris. Are you nervous about the Reaping?"I respond.

"Meh, maybe a little. But it's probably not going to be us," Iris answers optimistically. I nod, hoping she's right.

And I am right. Within the next few minutes, the ceremony starts. Our escort from the Capitol, a lady with mauve purple curls, faint bluish skin, gold eyes, and many curly orange tattoos takes the stage. Her bright red heels clack on the stage as she walks up enthusiastically to the microphone to get the ceremony started. After making several long, obligatory speeches and showing us the mandatory video, she goes to the girls' reaping bowl first, as always, to draw the name. It's not many of the merchant kids who are worried, maybe except the older ones who have their names in the most, but the kids from the Seam. Especially here in the twelve-year-old section.

"Judith Thread!" the escort announces. A Seam girl, about fifteen, walks nervously onto the stage. She is soon followed by a 17-year-old Seam boy named George Henderson. The two tributes shake hands and are announced to the rest of us before they are taken away.

…

These Hunger Games are about to start. Judith and George stand on their tribute plates around the Cornucopia, waiting for the gong to sound so they can start running. The arena this year is quite something. This year, the Cornucopia is on a rock platform directly above an active volcano. Rope bridges are the only way the tributes can get from their plates, which are on the outer edges of the mouth of the volcano, to the Cornucopia. Something tells me that it's a Gamemaker trap that, when whoever makes a camp in the Cornucopia, like the Careers usually do, the volcano will erupt with no warning.

_WHOOSH-ING._

That is the gong sounding. As soon as it rings, some tributes dart down the side of the volcano into a thick jungle while others head straight for the mouth of the Cornucopia. I watch as George sprints into an area of the jungle that is closer to a sandy beach. Then it dawns on me that this is no beach. The entire arena is an island with a giant Gamemaker volcano right in the center. This could be quite disastrous for all of the tributes, especially depending on when the Gamemakers decide to set off the volcano.

Judith, George…it's for the both of you I'm most worried.

…

It's been two days only, and fourteen tributes are dead. That leaves only ten to remain fighting to the death. Miraculously, both of our tributes have pulled through to this point. Right now the camera is on Judith, who is now alone because the most recent death was Judith's ally, a girl from 7. Judith walks alone through the jungle, tripping on undergrowth every five minutes. Her only weapon right now is the ax she managed to escape with when her ally died. She has no supplies and no water as of right now.

"All I need to do is find George. He'll know what to do from here. After all, he allied with my ally's district partner…I think. Not sure. I think so," Judith mutters to herself, but the more she talks, the more confused she gets.

"Who killed Mariana? Was it Ricki, or was it Joanie?" she speaks aloud to herself.

That's when the cameras pick up noises she doesn't. The camera pans to a tribute following a few feet behind Judith. When the Gamemakers zoom in on the tribute, I realize it is none other than Mariana's murderer, Scythe, from District 1. Judith has been suspecting all of the wrong people. Personally, I believe the trauma induced by Mariana's death has sent Judith into a state of not denial, but overall into utter confusion. Maybe it was so bad she involuntarily blocked the memory from her mind, and that's why Scythe hasn't been named as any of her suspects yet.

"No…no it wasn't Joanie. It was definitely Ricki," Judith mutters. If only Judith would remember Ricki was the death right before Mariana. And if only she realized Scythe is following her at a close distance, with a knife in his hand, an array of knives in his jacket, and a sword hooked onto his belt.

Judith, you better start running.

…

Judith and George are still alive three days later. Scythe is still following Judith around the arena. The Games are down to six tributes now: Joanie, Judith, George, Scythe, a girl from 3 named Harriet, and Mariana's district partner Randall.

"Maysilee," Anika calls from the front door, "I'm going out to hang out with Iris. Do you want to come? The Games are going to end in a few days, but for now it looks like nothing is happening." I look at the TV again and see Scythe is still cautiously following Judith. I slowly get up from my spot, whispering a good-bye to the tributes on the screen before I grab a blue sweatshirt and head out with Anika to go see Iris.

…

When we finally find Iris, she's in her parents' apothecary shop, stacking up the medicines and watching the Games on the TV. Her gaze is more focused on the TV than the medicine – a rare occasion unless something big is happening with the tributes. When the bell above the door rings, signaling the entrance for Anika and I, Iris hurriedly waves us over to the TV.

"Guys! Something _huge_ is happening!" she exclaims.

"And you said it was boring when we left," I say accusingly to Anika as we hurry over to the television screen. The screen – well, at least the cameras in the arena – are shaking violently, and a loud rumbling noise is occurring.

"The volcano!" Anika exclaims. Iris, Anika, and I hop over the counter to get a closer look. Judith is running to the beach when fireballs from the volcano start to rain down. Through the ash and smoke, I can make out George being chased by Joanie.

"Oh my goodness. They'd better hurry outta there fast," a boy calls, walking into the store. It's Johnny Mellark, son of the baker. He's had a crush on Iris for a while now, and it clearly shows the way he holds her as the two of them watch the tributes running toward the saltwater ocean. Or, what I can hope is a saltwater ocean.

Then I see it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see another tribute running from amidst the jungle. It's Harriet, and she has some sort of weapon in her hands. I believe it's a mace. I wasn't aware of how good she was with the weapon, but as she throws it across the sand and clocks Randall on the head with it, I can see now that she was a tribute to be fearful of from the beginning. Randall falls into the sand, with his skull visibly cracked, but no blood at all. A cannon fires, but you can barely hear it over the volcano.

"Is this the finale?" Anika asks.

"I would believe so, though it's only six days into the Games," Johnny pipes up.

"Well, that's odd that they're ending the Games this early, with six tributes left," Iris says. But something gets the better of me. Something looms over my head.

"No," I say aloud. "They're going to break the tributes. Anyone left standing will have to survive the island with molten lava everywhere."

…

I was right. After Randall died, Joanie went down. George went insane after Randall died, and he stayed away from Judith after that. Scythe and Harriet are their biggest opponents now. All four tributes are scattered on the island three days after the volcanic eruption, climbing over the now-cooled and solid volcanic rock.

That's when the mutts come in.

The mutts are strange, vampiric creatures with the physical construction of a wolf mutt. They have wings, too, fangs, and the sharpest claws I've ever seen in watching the Hunger Games. The first tribute to go down by a mutt is none other than George.

The mutt tackles him, and pins him onto the ground so he can't move. The ragged breathing of the mutt blows into George's face and his nose screws up with disgust at the inevitably pungent smell. The mutt smiles maliciously, something that makes George cower with fear. The mutt first licks George's face, as if getting a taste for him. Then the mutt bites off a chunk of his shoulder.

George cries out and tries to grab his knife. He manages to get it out of his pants pocket and jab it into the mutt's side. The mutt screeches a gurgled and strangled cry. This causes it to only press down harder on George.

I turn the TV off when I see the mutt go for the kill.

…

"Oh, my GOSH. Did you see George get mauled by that mutt last night? That was pure insanity. I can believe they let that air all over Panem. It was disgusting!" Haymitch Abernathy, being the immature twelve-year-old he is, says to me the next morning in school. I nod absently, trying not to pay attention. Haymitch grins at me when he realizes I did not, in fact, watch George get mauled…entirely. He pokes me in the shoulder.

"You got grossed out and turned off the TV, didn't ya, you pansy?" he remarks.

I shut my locker and turn to him roughly.

"Haymitch Abernathy, I am certainly _not_ a pansy. I had a gang of three boys run away from me when I was seven because I was the only seven-year-old girl in the neighborhood who's able to wield a blowgun made from a few straws and spitballs with needles in them!" I reply. Haymitch rolls his eyes at me.

"Sure you were, Pansy," he says. He thinks for a minute then brightly smiles at me.

"I like that. Your new nickname is Pansy! See ya at lunch, _Pansy_!" Haymitch calls, walking away just as the bell rings.

That Haymitch.

…

When I get home later that afternoon, I turn the TV back on to see Harriet going down by a mutt. I am mesmerized by the way the mutt pushes her into the ocean water. She doesn't float. It actually seems to sink her. She chokes on the water. The mutt has another human-like characteristic, I realize. It laughs maniacally as the cannon for Harriet fires. It's disgusting…utterly disgusting that the Capitol would come up with something so gut-wrenching. It's not even the Quarter Quell yet.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is another tribute dead," Caesar Flickerman says as the scene cuts to him sitting at that desk talking to Claudius Templesmith.

"Those mutts are vicious, Caesar! Some of you may have missed it, but last night George Henderson, a seventeen-year-old boy from District 12, got brutally mauled last night by the mutts," Claudius says.

Oh my goodness.

I shut off the TV and don't come out of my room for the rest of the night.

…

_"Maysilee! Maysilee, help me!"_

_ "Iris, Anika, Johnny! I'm coming!"_

_ "MAYSILEE!"_

_ I look around the jungle for any weapon I can use. But no such thing is available. All that I see is a useless, beat-up scythe lying on the ground. I ignore the weapon and press forward, following the voices of my friends. When I finally see Iris, she isn't alone. Haymitch is there, trying desperately to help her ward off a muttation, like the one that mauled George and drowned Harriet. I join him, beating at the mutt's back with my fists and hoping my nails are sharp enough to cause some pain._

_ I find out they don't._

_ But now the mutt is irritated. It looks at Haymitch and I, and then turns back to Iris. It pushes her back, slashing her in the chest with the long, sharp claws in the process. Iris screams and falls back into the sand of the beach. It is almost like quicksand when she falls back, beginning to swallow her up. The sand becomes a rusty color, and I know her blood is mixing with the saltwater and sand._

_ "Maysilee!" her voice cries out. "Musfurry…"_

_ I hear her voice trying, strained, to say my name, but blood, sand, and saltwater fill her mouth before she gets that chance. It comes out muffled, and that is when the cannon fires. I begin to do something that is a cross of screaming, crying, and laughing like a madman. Haymitch stands idly by, watching me as I drown out the nearby screaming of Anika and Johnny._

_ "Uhm…Maysilee? M-Mays? P-P-Pansy?" _

_ "Don't call me that, dang it Haymitch!" I rage, kicking Haymitch in the chest. Haymitch stumbles back into the claws of the mutt. The claws pierce through his body, going in through the back and coming out of the chest. I quickly realize what I have done._

_ "Haymitch! HAYMITCH!" I scream._

_ The cannon fires._

…

I wake up cold and clammy. My eyes squint to read the clock in the less-than-optimal light: 1:42 A.M.

My nightmare won't allow me to fall back asleep.

Instead, I lay awake, wondering how Judith is faring in the arena right now, with Scythe as the only one left, and mutts out to kill them both.

…

We're not even having class right now. Instead, we're sitting in the auditorium watching the final showdown of this year's Hunger Games on the big screen. Judith has only her one knife in her hand as of right now. Scythe has his array of knives left, and a club made from an oversized branch. They are at the top of the volcano, with the hot steam blowing into their faces. Wolf mutts are trying desperately to leap up onto the volcano and push either tribute in. Our whole school is cheering on Judith in a loud chorus, while I sit blankly, my face ghost white as I watch the two of them precariously prepare to fight.

"This is it!" Scythe yells at Judith with a smirk. "This is where it all ends!"

"Yeah…f-for you!" Judith says nervously, trying to keep herself steady. But she doesn't manage to – the new shaking of the volcano and the sudden torrent of rain prevent that. Both tributes look around the arena. I bite my nails as their eyes return to each other. That's when the screaming from the sky starts.

This isn't a Quarter Quell, which is four years away, but the Gamemakers sure are trying to keep these Games quite a memorable one.

"GEORGE!" Judith yells as his screams penetrate her ears. The Gamemakers are really cruel this year – really, really cruel. The cameras pan to Scythe, who is on his knees, tears flowing from the broke Career as the sound of Joanie. He clutches his ears in futile attempts to block out the sounds of his district partner screaming, probably dying in his head over and over.

"Make it stop!" he yells.

"Pure insanity," I hear Anika mutter from one side of me.

"Stupid. Entirely stupid. They should know those are Capitol mutts, those jabberjays. They should know the Capitol distorted the voices and made them sound like they're screaming instead of talking," Haymitch mutters from the other side of me. He turns to look at me.

"What do you think, Pansy?" he asks.

"I think you should shut up," I reply sharply, turning back to the screen.

Haymitch huffs and looks back at the screen. Judith is stumbling now, trying to get to her feet in the blinding rain.

On the other side of the volcano, Scythe is doing the same, with much more success.

Scythe makes his way over to Judith. Before she can process it, Scythe has come up behind her. In the darkness, we see nothing. Then a blinding flash of lightning lights up the entire viewing screen. I almost scream at the sight of Scythe poised behind Judith, towering over her with a knife in each hand. Judith turns slowly and fearfully, and lets out a muted scream. Scythe laughs maniacally and audibly, and reaches forward to slash her. Judith steps back, taking out her own knife.

"You can't win! It's all over! I'm gonna be victor, right now!" Scythe yells at her. Judith recoils as Scythe brings down the knife. Luckily, in the poor vision, Scythe misses. But Judith makes one fatal mistake – rolling the wrong way, right into the volcano.

The cannon booms right after. My jaw drops and the whole auditorium erupts in boos and hisses. Shock consumes me. I quickly rush from my seat and head into the girls' room. I sit down in a stall and vent to myself for what seems like hours. In reality, it's only been five minutes. My cheeks are tear-stained when I leave the stall.

* * *

_Age 13_

This year the Reaping is harder on me. I've never really understood the full power until when I saw those Games last year. Last year, when the remaining tributes after the bloodbath got tortured to no end, until it was all over and the District 1 tribute Scythe was crowned victor. It was revolting last year, especially the mutts. The mutts were putrid and disgusting.

"That was so freaky last year. It was stupid!" Haymitch says from beside me as we head down to the Reaping.

"We all know that, Haymitch," I reply. "I just hope there isn't a repeat this year."

"If there's a repeat, I'll march down to the Capitol and tell those suckers off! They can kiss my—"

"Haymitch! Language!" Anika snaps.

"Sorry," Haymitch mutters, but we all know he doesn't mean it. We shake our heads with sighs and sign in like last year. Then we go over and stand with the thirteen-year-olds, who have moved closer to the stage. The place is decorated just as it was last year. Our kooky escort is the same, except this year she has bloody red hair and make-up and a muddy brown outfit. She makes the same speeches as last year and this time selects Riley Harlong as our female tribute and Miles Jansen as our male tribute. The two of them are eighteen and thirteen, respectively. Riley is angered, since if she hadn't been reaped this year she would've been safe. It's only Miles' second year in the Reaping and he got reaped. I know he gets afraid easily – he's in my year at school, and is always afraid of something or other.

They're gonna die.

…

The arena this year is a mountain range with many, many caves and hard snowfall. The Cornucopia lies in a small area of flat land surrounded by a small forest. After the forest, the rest of the arena is mountains, and in the mountains, caves. All of the tributes are dressed in snow pants, snow boots, and big, fluffy parkas.

The tributes all stare at one another during the countdown, no one daring to say anything. Then, the sound of the gong ringing sends the tributes off of their plates.

I watch Miles turn around and run as far away from the bloodbath as he can. Riley, though, heads straight for it. She is about to grip a mace when someone tackles her from behind. It's the girl from 4, another eighteen-year-old. This tribute has a dagger in her hand. She pushes Riley to the ground and the two girls roll. Riley tries desperately to push back the hand of the girl from 4 that has the dagger in it. But, her attempts are futile, as the girl from 4 manages to keep it in her grip. She stabs it into Riley's abdomen. Riley screams out in pain. The girl from 4 uses Riley's procrastination to stick the dagger to her head, and just like that, Riley is dead.

…

"I can't believe Riley went in the bloodbath," Johnny says the next day at school, at lunch time. "I thought for sure that Miles would go down before her."

"Well, as you can see, Miles is very much alive and without any weapons or supplies," Iris responds to him.

"He'll be dead soon. Nobody can survive that long without supplies," Haymitch mutters.

…

Haymitch is right. That same night, in the cave, we watch the boy from 2 sneak up behind Miles and slit his throat. Miles reacts too late. By the time he even lays a hand on the boy, he falls dead onto the icy floor. The cannon booms, leaving Miles' bloodthirsty killer to smile at the body and toss it out of the cave. My dinner almost comes back up at the sight of Miles' blood leaking into was used to be pristine white snow. The boy from 2 looks quite impressed with his handiwork. I gag; his pride in killing off Miles disgusts me.

* * *

_Age 14_

The sun peaks over the horizon this morning. I lean sleepily against the railing of the porch. I see Haymitch as the only one out and about. He has a burlap sack over his shoulder and is walking toward his house, away from the woods. I know where he's been; he was poaching, but he called it keeping his family alive. He has made me swear on my life not to tell anyone else that he poaches. I can't tell Anika, or Iris, or even Johnny.

"Hey, stranger," I call to him. He looks up at me, gray Seam eyes lighting up just a bit when he sees me.

"Heya, Pansy. What's up? I thought you'd be in bed right now, trying to get as much sleep as you can before the Reaping," he says to me, grunting as he repositions the sack on his shoulder.

"Oh, nothing, just watching you lug…_whatever_ that is in your bag back to your house…err, wherever you bring that stuff," I reply quickly. Haymitch nods, dark hair falling into his eyes before he starts down the road. I'd never noticed how good-looking Haymitch has been getting. Maybe that's why some of the girls in my school have suddenly fallen head-over-heels for him. I wonder if they know he hunts in the woods, and admire him for that, too.

…

The reaping comes and goes again. Our district's escort's hand sweeps into the reaping balls, drawing the names of two more unlucky tributes. This year it's Fallon Jetts, a sixteen-year-old Seam girl, and Rueben Kanter, one of Haymitch's best friends. I look over at Haymitch this year, and his eyes are wide and his fists are balled. Fear, hurt, and anger all swell together on his face as he watches Rueben take the stage, where he and Fallon are announced as District 12's tributes.

…

Haymitch doesn't show up at school the next day. He's probably out in the woods somewhere, taking out all of his anger on the poor animals and trees and whatever else is beyond the fence of District 12. I sigh with this fact in my head.

…

The Hunger Games officially start a few days later. The arena this year is a construction site with many working machines – an absolute deathtrap. Iris, Anika, Johnny, Haymitch, and I all watch as the tributes stand in a ring around the Cornucopia, waiting for the gong to sound. Haymitch has his knees drawn up to his chest as he watches the Games, and for a fourteen-year-old hunter, he looks so innocent. But I know what lies underneath – a volcano of emotions, boiling inside and ready to erupt at any provocation.

The gong sounds.

…

After the bloodbath, neither tribute is dead. Instead, both are on the move, looking for any machines lying around the arena to give them an advantage. On one side of the arena, Rueben finds only a power saw. On the other side, though, Fallon makes out well with a bulldozer. A crazed look comes over her face as she gets into the seat to control the machine, and she begins driving through the arena, ready to run over any tribute that stands in her way.

"If she runs over Rueben, so help me…," Haymitch mutters angrily.

"Haymitch, calm yourself. She won't—" Anika is interrupted by screaming on the TV. We all turn our attention back to the screen. Fallon is beginning to plow over some tributes. I recognize them as both from 1, the girl from 7, and the boy from 3.

"She's mental!" Iris cries.

"Someone get her in a straitjacket before she kills Rueben!" Haymitch shouts. But nobody tries to restrain her. Instead, all of the tributes dart out of the way as Fallon heads for the Cornucopia, where the Careers have set up camp.

"Oh boy," Johnny whispers as the bulldozer hits the Cornucopia.

…

The very next day, only 10 tributes remain, after Fallon and the bulldozer. The early morning light in the arena wakes Fallon up. Her bright Seam eyes dart around the arena looking for her next victim.

"She's mentally insane. We need to check her into a mental hospital," Johnny says.

"If she makes it back," Iris adds.

"Shut up! Rueben is making it back, okay?" Haymitch says sternly, trying so hard not to yell at us.

I feel bad for Haymitch; broken by seeing his best friend go into the Hunger Games.

I turn my attention back to the TV.

Fallon's eyes light up when she sees a camp of tents set up somewhere, with five tributes moving about. Haymitch's eyes go as wide as saucers. Iris gnaws on her nails and Anika seems frozen. Johnny is the only one, besides me, who is able to keep moving. We see one of the five tributes, Rueben, scouting when he spots Fallon and the bulldozer. Fallon's maniacal laugh drives into my head, and I turn to look at Haymitch. His face is drained of all color. I bite my lip and turn back to the TV. Rueben is rousing the others, alerting them to the pending danger. Quickly, the alliance starts to pack up when one of the girls, the girl from 8, screams at the top of her lungs. Sickening snaps follow and the rest of the alliance turns around to see her getting bulldozed.

"Oh goodness, I can't watch!" Anika exclaims, burying her face into a pillow.

Iris turns away, too, and Johnny sits in front of her so she doesn't have any opportunity to watch.

"Run!" Rueben screeches.

"Don't have to tell me twice!" the boy from 11 yells.

The other two members of the alliance are fortunate enough to get away, but not without witnessing Rueben and the boy from 11 get run over by Fallon.

"Someone shoot her!" Haymitch screeches, "She killed Rueben!"

Almost as if hearing Haymitch's screams, an arrow flies from the bow of one of the girls, from District 10, and hits Fallon in a paralyzing spot. Fallon falls from the control seat and onto the ground as her bulldozer drives itself, the setting on 'drive.'

"Oh, my gosh," I whisper.

The girl from 10 leaps onto the back of the bulldozer and pulls herself into the control seat. Haymitch nods and yells at the tribute to do what is evident she is going to – run over Fallon.

And she does.

The cannon fires.

* * *

_Age 15_

Haymitch stomps into the Seam from behind the fence. I watch him from my spot behind a barrel. He curses under his breath and kicks at the ground, a rage probably going on in his head, due to last year's traumatic Games. I remember watching Rueben get killed, the way Haymitch lost it, and was never the same again. I remember watching him at school in the following weeks, shutting everyone out, including Anika, Iris, Johnny, and me. And now as I stare at him, I see something I hadn't noticed.

Tears run down his face as he screams at the sky, kicking over a sack of something or other on the ground. Poor Haymitch.

…

The reaping is dull and lifeless, nonetheless filled with the air of fear, like every other year. This is the year before the Quarter Quell; therefore, this will be a forgotten Hunger Games. I feel bad for whoever will be reaped, as they will be part of history, but one of the parts that nobody will teach.

I look up to the escort, who is dipping her hand into the girls' bowl first as always.

"Daphne Fawsen!" the escort calls, waving a 14-year-old girl from the Seam onto the stage. Haymitch glares at the stage as he watches another one of his own kind stand up on the stage. The escort, however, grins brightly at the girl and then proceeds to call the boy.

"Ralph Houston!" she calls. A fifteen-year-old boy from the merchant class, _my class,_ and my year, walks onto the stage. Haymitch grins slightly, deranged. Of course, I suppose he has a good enough reason, for himself, anyhow; Haymitch and Ralph have been bitter enemies from the start. With the segregation in our district, Ralph has made Haymitch miserable since Rueben died. I can't say I'm unhappy he's going into the Games, but I'm none too satisfied, either.

…

The Games start about a week or so later, give or take a few days. This year's arena is a corn maze, with a working tractor, fog, smoke, and the arena is bathed in darkness – night all of the time. It looks something like out of one of those movies, for some ancient holiday called Halloween. I don't know who'd like a holiday like that, but I suppose that's alright. It's far not as vile as the Hunger Games.

"Screw Ralph. I hope he dies in the bloodbath," Haymitch growls.

"Calm yourself, Haymitch. Don't go overboard here," I warn him sternly.

The gong rings, interrupting both of us. The tributes take off and vie for supplies at the Cornucopia. Daphne makes the idiotic move into the Cornucopia to reach for a sword when someone leaps onto her. It's the girl from 4, and she quickly slits her neck before Daphne has any retaliation time. I know for sure Daphne is dead now, and horror is written upon Haymitch's face.

"She shoulda done that to Ralph!" he yells.

"Is that Haymitch screaming?" I hear the voice of Haymitch's new girlfriend, Lauren, as she steps into my house, uninvited. She sits down on my couch, not bothering for an invitation, and rubs Haymitch as an attempt to calm him. It's not very effective, though, as Haymitch begins yelling obscenities at Ralph, who is running from the Cornucopia with an ax and a hockey mask.

…

Four days into the Games, and we are down to nine tributes. Ralph is among them, along with both from 7, the girl from 4, the boy from 2, both from 1, the boy from 5, and the girl from 11.

Ralph aimlessly wanders the corn maze.

"He's going to get murdered by another tribute. He looks unaware of his surroundings and totally unsuspecting," Iris points out as we sit and watch the Games together. I don't listen to her, though, because if I know Ralph, he's got something up his sleeve. Instead, I finger the Mockingjay pin I found in the street today on the way over to Iris's. It is made of gold and placed inside a ring of gold, attached only by the wingtips. An arrow rests in the mouth.

"Are you even listening to me?" Iris asks.

I don't reply.

"Maysilee, what if we get reaped? You're missing out on strategies, here!"

Nothing.

"Maysilee!"

I'm still silent as I fasten the pin to my shirt. Iris lets out a frustrated breath.

"Ugh, fine. I'll just keep these strategies to myself."

I look back up when I'm positive she's done talking. Ralph is wandering about the corn maze, still, when he spots the boy from 5. The thirteen-year-old looks dehydrated and hungry as he walks around, weaponless. Ralph gives a psychotic smirk and pulls the mask over his face. He hides the ax behind him and tip-toes over to the boy from 5.

I'm suddenly afraid.

The boy from 5 is oblivious to the oncoming attack. Even if he does notice it, though, I doubt he'll be able to fight off. He's too weak right now. A strong feeling of hate begins to grow in my chest for Ralph. Ralph tip-toes behind the boy from 5, and the rainstorm that was happening begins getting worse, lightning flashing in the background. It casts a shadow of Ralph towering over the boy from 5, giving him the chance to turn around and see the ax blade ready to come down upon his head.

"Take me. I can't take it," the boy rasps. Ralph glares.

"This isn't the demise I had planned for you, but it'll have to do, I suppose," he says in a bored tone. He brings the ax down upon the boy's head, and a cannon fires immediately after.

I hear cries of rage from the Seam at that very moment.

…

Two days later. Five tributes. Ralph still alive.

Haymitch could not be more displeased at the moment. He stomps around inside of my living room. He'd be with Lauren today, but she's got to go to a relative's today, so Haymitch came here with me, since I'm home alone.

"When will Ralph just freaking die?!" Haymitch seethes.

"Soon, I hope. I've started to hate him since he just sprung upon the boy from Five and was disappointed when the boy just surrendered to him," I reply bluntly.

"He's gotta die," Haymitch mutters, a bit calmer as he glares at the TV. Right now, we're watching the girl from 4 lurk in the bed of the tractor. She hears footsteps nearby and quickly ducks down just as Ralph appears. He grins at the truck, and a sparkle in his eyes transports me back to last year.

_Fallon's eyes light up when she sees a camp of tents set up somewhere, with five tributes moving about. Haymitch's eyes go as wide as saucers. Iris gnaws on her nails and Anika seems frozen. Johnny is the only one, besides me, who is able to keep moving. We see one of the five tributes, Rueben, scouting when he spots Fallon and the bulldozer. Fallon's maniacal laugh drives into my head, and I turn to look at Haymitch. His face is drained of all color. I bite my lip and turn back to the TV. Rueben is rousing the others, alerting them to the pending danger. Quickly, the alliance starts to pack up when one of the girls, the girl from 8, screams at the top of her lungs. Sickening snaps follow and the rest of the alliance turns around to see her getting bulldozed._

_ "Oh goodness, I can't watch!" Anika exclaims, burying her face into a pillow._

_ Iris turns away, too, and Johnny sits in front of her so she doesn't have any opportunity to watch._

_ "Run!" Rueben screeches._

_ "Don't have to tell me twice!" the boy from 11 yells._

_ The other two members of the alliance are fortunate enough to get away, but not without witnessing Rueben and the boy from 11 get run over by Fallon._

_ "Someone shoot her!" Haymitch screeches, "She killed Rueben!"_

_ Almost as if hearing Haymitch's screams, an arrow flies from the bow of one of the girls, from District 10, and hits Fallon in a paralyzing spot. Fallon falls from the control seat and onto the ground as her bulldozer drives itself, the setting on 'drive.' _

_ "Oh, my gosh," I whisper._

_ The girl from 10 leaps onto the back of the bulldozer and pulls herself into the control seat. Haymitch nods and yells at the tribute to do what is evident she is going to – run over Fallon._

_ And she does._

_ The cannon fires. _

The memory overwhelms me as Ralph gets into the driver's seat and starts to drive with the truck. But the girl from 4 is quiet and stealthy as she gets onto the roof of the truck, just about soundlessly. When the time is right, she leaps onto the hood and smashes the window with the sword she has. The glass shatters and rains down onto Ralph.

"Yes! Yes!" Haymitch cheers, leaping up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ralph snaps at the girl from 4 as the tractor goes out of control.

"Ending District Twelve! Later, idiot!" the girl yells at him, stabbing him in the chest. A cannon fires just before the tractor crashes and squashes the girl. Another cannon follows shortly after. Haymitch's jaw is dropped, and my expression probably mirrors him.

* * *

_Age 16_

This year is the year of the Quarter Quell. President Snow sits on the stage, and a little boy in a suit carrying a simple wooden box trots over to him. The president takes the little box and opens it. A small group of yellowed cards sits inside. The president plucks the second one and holds it up to eye level.

"As a reminder to the rebels that for every Capitol citizen, two rebels died, twice the number of tributes shall go into the arena. Two male, two female," the president reads.

"Harsh card," Johnny mutters.

"Well, that stinks for whoever is going to get reaped this year," Iris mutters.

"Yeah. I certainly don't want to be one of those tributes. Forty-eight tributes? I'd die on day one," I say.

…

Reagan Flats, a 17-year-old Seam girl, and Howard Truffs, an 18-year-old merchant boy, stand on stage already for this year's reaping. Our escort goes on to pick the next girl tribute, and I hope to death that it isn't Anika, Iris, or me.

"Maysilee Donner!"

I feel like someone has pushed me over with a ton of bricks. I stumble toward the stage, uncomprehending of the situation. I receive a dirty look from Reagan, because she had feared this all of her life and I had not a care in the world until now. She must think I act like I'm royalty, like my being here is quite a mistake.

I sigh and return my attention to the escort, who is pulling a name from the boys' reaping ball.

"Haymitch Abernathy!"

WHAT?!

Haymitch takes the stage right after me. I look at him, then to his girlfriend, followed by Johnny, Iris, and Anika.

They all wear the same expression: absolute horror.

…

The Remake Center is huge. I don't get much time to look around, though, as I am whisked away by my prep team and my stylist. I am scrubbed down and some of my hair is cut off. It is dyed to a lighter blonde color, as well. As they work on me, I hear them whisper things about my looks.

"Her hair is awful."

"Her nails are atrocious."

"She needs a fuller figure."

"We could do some facial reconstruction on her…"

…

The chariots for the tribute parade this year are doubled in size so four tributes can fit on them. District 12 looks ridiculous like this. My costume, which matches Reagan's, is leather booty shorts with leather suspenders over a black button-down shirt, which, might I add, exposes cleavage, something I don't care for, knee-high black combat boots, and miner helmets with lights on them. We're covered in coal dust as well and we all wield fake pick-axes.

We roll out into the City Circle, where some men wolf-whistle at Reagan and I in our costumes. I shift uncomfortably.

…

I sit next to Caesar Flickerman several days later in a black evening gown. It's much less sexy than what they put Reagan and me in for the chariot rides.

"So, Miss Donner, how does it feel to be reaped for a Quarter Quell with twice the number of tributes?" Caesar asks me.

"I'd rather be home," I respond bluntly.

"I see, I see. What did you think of your chariot outfits? I know many men in the Capitol audience loved you!" Caesar says.

"If I wore that at home I'd be grounded for six months," I answer.

Caesar lets out a barely-audible sigh and goes to try and continue my interview.

…

Haymitch, now, sits in the interview chair. I watch him with great interest about what he has to say.

"So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?" Caesar asks.

Haymitch shrugs.

"I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same," Haymitch answers with a half-grin as the audience bursts into laughter. I imagine President Snow isn't pleased with Haymitch's cocky tone and public opposition to the Hunger Games.

…

The gong rings, but all of us are too mesmerized to move. The arena is beautiful, with a long meadow that stretches for miles. In the distance on one side are snowcapped mountains. On another side is a dense forest. The rest is a cliff. Nobody moves as we all stare in awe at the beauty – except one tribute.

Haymitch runs to the Cornucopia with nobody out to stop him. He grabs a backpack and hurriedly slings it over his shoulder. He grabs a knife, too, and then breaks away before anyone even realizes, besides me.

That's when I realize that I need to get to the Cornucopia. I launch myself off of my plate next and swoop in to the Cornucopia. That's when other tributes, though, start realizing. Within minutes, ten more tributes are running at me. I grab the nearest thing – a backpack, and make a break for it. When I look back, all of the tributes have made it to the Cornucopia, and I witness bloodshed. I see several tributes go down, and one killer looks at me viciously, calling to one of the others from his district to chase me.

Eyes wide, I run.

…

That night, there are 18 faces in the sky out of the 48 tributes. If this was a normal Hunger Games, that would be only 9 tributes dead in the bloodbath. I sigh and open my backpack. Inside is a blowgun, 24 darts, a bowl, and some beef strips.

I wonder how Haymitch made out with his backpack.

…

I learn quickly that everything in this arena is poisonous, except for rainwater and the things in my bag. I watch three tributes fall dead, followed by three cannons, after eating some fruit found on one of the trees. The shiny exterior and bright red color almost tempts me to eat it, but I don't. However, I do pick it up and start peeling it. I manage to squeeze the juice into the bowl. I smile; poison for my darts.

I go around collecting more fruit for the rest of the hour, skinning them and squeezing the rich juice into a bowl. When I'm done I seal off the bowl with the lid that came with it. When I need to, I'll dip my darts in it. I have three darts dipped and at hand in case I need them. With my things all set, I head out toward the mountain to see if I can find some more tributes to stalk.

…

The view from the mountain is breathtaking. I can see all around the vast expanse of the arena. I don't see the Careers, however, until I look to my left. Some distance away, maybe a quarter of a mile, the Careers have set up camp.

I begin to make my way over when the rumbling begins.

…

The majority of the Career pack is dead. The mountains turned out to be volcanoes. There's only a third of them remaining, maybe less. I sigh and trek on toward the Cornucopia. Then I hear screaming and yelling coming from somewhere.

"Haymitch," I mutter as I hear his aggressive voice.

"Die, idiot!"

…

Two Careers lie dead on the ground. The third holds a knife to Haymitch's throat. Haymitch is pinned to the ground, unable to move. He doesn't dare scream now – that will result in instantaneous death. Instead, he tries to thrash about. The Career grins as he begins to press the knife down. But he quickly stops and drops the knife, shocking Haymitch. The Career drops to the ground. Haymitch turns to see the Career with a dart in his neck.

"Hey, Haymitch," I mutter quietly, coming out from my spot behind the tall grasses. Haymitch looks relieved that it's only me, and not another one of the Careers.

"Thanks, Maysilee. I would've died without you," he says.

"No problem. So…do you maybe want to be allies?" I ask.

Haymitch nods.

"We'll work better as a team. Now come on; let's go see if we can find anything useful."

…

We walk seemingly aimlessly for days. Haymitch looks like he knows where he's going, but I believe he doesn't. For days we walk around the arena, rationing our food, drinking rainwater, and sleeping alongside each other on the ground. I feel ready to go crazy – and when we reach the end of the arena, I reach the end of my wit.

"Haymitch, we walked for days just to come to the end of the stupid arena!" I shout, fists balled.

"I know. I wanted to come here," Haymitch responds bluntly, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"We need to go back, Haymitch," I say to him sternly.

"No. I'm staying here," Haymitch says defiantly.

"Well then I'm leaving. There's five of us, and I don't want it coming down to the two of us," I say. Haymitch doesn't turn around. He doesn't even acknowledge my leaving. And then I turn around and leave.

…

"Stupid idiot. What the hell does he know? The end of the arena is full of nothing! Absolutely nothing!" I shout to myself in the arena. I think I'm alone until I feel some sort of presence. I don't dare turn when I hear some sort of squawking. A shadow overcomes me.

_Don't turn around._

_ Don't you dare._

But I do. I can't scream when I do. A flock of six candy-pink birds, obviously mutts, surrounds me. I can't make myself move to get the blowgun. It's as if I'm frozen in time, and then it all happens in slow motion. The birds all launch themselves at me at once, bringing me to the ground and the memories of all of the wolf mutts from the Games when I was twelve hit me like a ton of bricks. I struggle, scream, kick, but nothing works. The birds all peck at me, tearing off my flesh and causing me great pain. The pecking hurts. I do the one thing I know will work.

I yell his name.

"HAYMITCH!"

…

I feel the final skewer just as Haymitch appears over the hill. He screams at the sight, and all of the birds fly away before he can reach them. He falls to his knees beside me and takes my hand. My breath is coming in sharp gasps.

"H-Hay-mitch…," I manage.

"Maysilee. Don't die on me now. You can't!" Haymitch shouts. But he knows the efforts are futile.

"I love you, Haymitch," I whisper. I shakily kiss him. When I pull away, his face reads shock.

"I love you t-too, P-Pansy…," he whispers, his lips curving slightly, into a watery smile. That is when my head falls back, and my whole world goes dark.

_BOOM._

* * *

**Well, wasn't that quite depressing? **

**Thanks for taking the time to read this.**


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